


POPE IOANNES LOST IN CATACOMBS AGAIN.  PLS SEND RESCUE PARTY.

by esteefee



Series: Pope John [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Blasphemy, Gen, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/598000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As is customary when LJ 404s, esteefee writes Pope John crack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	POPE IOANNES LOST IN CATACOMBS AGAIN.  PLS SEND RESCUE PARTY.

"Lost? What do you mean lost?" Rodney snapped.

Radek shrugged, his glasses slipping down his nose. "I mean the Papecz is lost. He cannot be found. He said something about investigating the catacombs during the downtime—"

"Cata—Atlantis doesn't have catacombs for Pete's sake!" Rodney hurried over to console and pulled up the city-wide monitoring interface. "There! You see?" He pointed at the glowing cross that was nestled happily in the gymnasium.

" _That_ is Archbishop Ronon."

"Archbishop! Since when is Ronon an—"

"Since the last databurst. We had a big party. There was very tasty cake." Radek bounced on his toes.

"There was Archbishop cake?" Rodney chewed his lip. He always missed the cake. His eyes scanned the monitor for another cross, slightly bigger and glowier, but no dice. "Damn it, John," he muttered. "All right, break out the marines. And Sister Teyla: we might need aerial search capabilities."

Radek muttered something uncomplimentary but did as he asked.

:::

"I hate it down here. It's musty and dirty and there might be bugs." Rodney used the light from his tablet to illuminate the walls. "Hang on on a minute. Corporal, can you...?"

Corporal Ngo held up his P-90 and its much better flashlight. "Whoa. Check it out, Doc."

"What in blazes?" The smooth, pearly blue of Atlantis' walls had transitioned into pockmarked stone, weathered and old. Decidedly not Ancient-looking. "Catacombs, indeed," Rodney murmured. "I take it we're on the right track. Onward, men," Rodney said firmly, and gave what he thought was the proper hand sign, only to have Ngo look at him quizzically. 

"You want us to take a leak, sir? Here?"

"Maybe in a few."

:::

"These markings are fascinating. Of course, my Ancient is a little rusty, but I think it says, "The limbs aren't all dying."

A gruff voice said, "Not all of me will die."

"Ronon!" Rodney frowned, but was secretly pleased. "I thought you were busy giving a meditation class."

"You should've called me anyway; I would've come."

"Well, you don't invite me to all of your parties, either."

Ronon nudged him. "Don't be dumb. Il Papa is in trouble."

"Tell me something new and exciting." Rodney pointed, "I'm reading two life signs this way. Well, one life sign, and one...something."

Rodney heard the comforting whine of Ronon's blaster warming up. "Lead on."

:::

"This reminds me of Les catacombes de Paris," Ronon said, waving his blaster toward the walls. "Except creepier, and with less filigree."

The mud squelched under their feet, and Rodney shivered. It reminded him of when he'd gotten lost in the Haunted House at the carnival in his home town. He'd panicked and run in circles until he'd fallen and landed on the giant pumpkin they'd half-buried near the center of the maze.

Stupid pumpkin.

"What the hell was John doing down here; that's what I'd like to know," Rodney said. 

"Maybe Atlantis told him to come." 

"Told him to? How could Atlantis tell him—Atlantis is a city, not a person!"

Ronon shot him a look.

"What? Has John said something? About Atlantis?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? Maybe?"

The marines had drifted ahead, so the only light was coming from Rodney's tablet. He shoved it in Ronon's face to get a better look at his expression. 

"You better come clean, mister."

Ronon winced and then started walking again. "He thought you'd make fun."

"Of?"

"He says he thinks he can hear something sometimes. Like the city is awake."

Rodney snorted before catching himself. "Oookay. Awake how?"

Ronon's shoulders shrugged.

Rodney whacked him with his tablet.

Ronon waved his battle staff at him, nearly clonking Rodney in the head. "Just, like whispers, he said. Almost words, except not."

"Ridiculous."

"Yeah, he said you'd say that." Ronon shoved Rodney forward. "C'mon, let's go find him."

The tunnel got narrower and lower. Soon Ronon had to stoop down and jog along, his staff hanging low at his side, and that meant Rodney had to jog too, to keep up. So he was busy concentrating on just breathing and wiping the sweat from his eyes, and it took him a while to notice the light was changing, brightening. It seemed to be coming from the walls, pouring from the rock.

"What the heck?" Rodney wanted to stop and take a reading on his tablet, but one of the men up ahead shouted, "This way!" and the pace suddenly quickened.

"Hang on," Rodney said, trying to grab Ronon's robe. "This could be a trap."

Suddenly he heard it. Words whispering through the walls. _Non omnis moriar. Non omnis moriar._

"What in hell?"

"Stay here," Ronon said, voice low.

"Screw that," Rodney snapped, and hung onto the back of Ronon's robe as he sped forward, blaster in his hand. 

There was a shout from one of the marines, and then light blazed around them, bright white, just as the tunnel broke into a wide cavern. 

Rodney stumbled, blinking, blinded, arms waving into the open space. 

"Holy fucking crap," Ronon said.

"Three Hail Marys," Rodney said absently, his eyes still tearing up. "You should get more because you're an archbishop now, but I won't tell."

"It's Il Papa," Ronon said. Rodney blinked around the red spots. When his vision finally cleared he saw what all the cursing was about.

John was lying on a stone altar of some kind, his robes all in white, and the source of light was the altar itself, a glowing rectangle beneath him.

"You'd better be alive, asshole," Rodney said, but just then John blinked and raised his head.

"Great. Straight out of Battlestar Galactica," Rodney said, disgruntlement vying with relief.

"I don't remember that episode," Ronon said.

"Original series. Before your time." Rodney approached John cautiously, but whatever the altar had been doing, it appeared to be finished. 

"It's alive, Rodney," John said. He tried to get up but wobbled as he slid off the stone. Ronon hurried to help him, Corporal Ngo assisting on his other side.

"Just what is alive, where? And why didn't you bring your radio, you nincompoop?" Rodney resisted the urge to smack him, seeing as John's eyes looked like they were about to whirl right out of his head. 

"I...dunno." John looked puzzled. "Went to take a nap. Got bored when you started messing with the systems—"

"We had a perfectly legitimate need for the downtime—"

"And then I was here, talking to it. They tried to wipe it out after they sank the city, but it hid down here." John patted the altar, which, on closer examination, was humming with power. Rodney winced against the light and took a closer look at the inputs and outputs, the blinking indicators. 

"Holy crap. It's a server."

John nodded, then winced. "Well, that's a little like calling your laptop a digital watch."

"You mean Atlantis has an artificial intelligence, and it stowed away down here when they tried to wipe it out of the system?"

"Yup." John grinned. "And it wants to be friends with us."

"I could use a friend like that," Rodney said gleefully. "Someone who knows the systems—someone with an inside track." 

_Yes. I know which storage room is used to hide the cheese doodles._

"Wow." Rodney's mouth dropped open. 

"Good friends are everything," Ronon said, and clapped him hard on the back.

Rodney choked on his own spit. "Thanks."

"C'mon, let's get back before Teyla eats all the leftover cake."

"There's more cake?" John turned and faced the altar. "See you later, Atlantis. Rodney will get you hooked up square. He's good at that sort of thing." John headed for the exit. Ronon and Ngo had already beat him out and were hunching through the tunnel entrance. 

"Hey, wait a minute! I didn't even get firsts!"

"Well, come on then, buddy," John said, flashing him a grin. "Hey, did I really look like Captain Apollo?"

"No." Rodney sniffed. "He had better hair."

 

_End._

[ ](http://esteefee.livejournal.com/pics/catalog/557/86518)

**Author's Note:**

> [Pope John Masterlist](http://esteefee.livejournal.com/69844.html).


End file.
